


Do Limits Set You Free?

by MagpieMorality



Series: Writepie Prompt Fills [136]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternative Origin, Gen, How Roman Met Remus, Implied Deceit, Mentioned Thomas, Pre-Canon, Roman views Anxiety as unsympathetic, mentioned Logan - Freeform, mentioned Virgil - Freeform, mentioned patton - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:27:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24897661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagpieMorality/pseuds/MagpieMorality
Summary: For the prompt: Oh! It’s Saturday! I can send in a prompt! So way back when Altruistic Skittles did the first of the nightmare series, with Remus, you reblogged and said you might want to write something based onthe picture. Last I knew, she said that people can write fanfictions from the pictures, as long as they’re properly credited. If that’s still something you’d be interested in, I’d love to see it!
Series: Writepie Prompt Fills [136]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1638634
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20





	Do Limits Set You Free?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AltruisticSkittles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AltruisticSkittles/gifts).



Roman had been feeling off for a while. He was far from the only one; puberty was tough on every aspect of Thomas, including Logan who had been stretched to his limits trying to keep up with all the demands of an average American high school life. But with Anxiety suddenly in the picture things were even more complicated. Who was he? Where had he come from? And why wouldn’t he _leave_?

In all honesty Roman hadn’t actually known there were other sides. He’d sort of, maybe naively, assumed that the three of them were the sum of Thomas’ parts, and that they covered everything Thomas would ever need. Sort of like Inside Out, which had in no way at all influenced their existence; they were the pilots who tended to the world inside Thomas’ busy head, just… minus the less good parts. Maybe Thomas didn’t need avatars for those things; maybe he didn’t value them that way, or maybe he just didn’t view them as part of himself?

It was an unfinished theory, but Roman mostly left those sorts of things to Logan, and Logan was too busy for much introspection these days. Which was why Anxiety had gone unchecked for so long.

Sometimes it felt like only Roman was the target of his attacks. Logan faltered, sure, but he was stubborn as all hell when it came to his routines and priorities and Anxiety hadn’t managed to shake them too much just yet. Logan was too established in Thomas’ head to allow wiggle room for anxious thoughts to disrupt his work. Patton also seemed to get away with coexisting with the guy; they fed off each other, or perhaps Anxiety had seen Patton’s power and figured it was easier to work with him than against him, turning good feelings to worry and guilt.

Okay so maybe Patton wasn’t unaffected, but he was so good at putting on a brave face that Anxiety had evidently seen fit to back off out of pure pity, and that left Roman. 

Roman, Roman, Roman, trying his best to stay afloat on the sea of schoolwork and stress, to throw creativity into Thomas’ days so his smile wouldn’t fade. Until stupid, miserable, _Despicable He_ , came along and took it upon himself to thwart Roman’s noble goal.

Their fights were spectacular, unfortunately often feeding into the influence Anxiety had clawed for himself over Thomas and leaving him feeling worse than before Roman had begun the battle. Not that Roman ever started things! He just kept trying to do his work, to do his best, and then Anxiety would show up and bam! Thomas’ hand would falter when writing his cathartic fanfiction, or his mind would blank as he searched for the lines to his latest monologue, or his voice would wobble and break on the notes of a song.

So things were weird, and that wasn’t all.

All it took in the end were a few cutting remarks from Anxiety that didn’t make any sense, and Roman was lost to that edge of paranoia, forever wondering what he meant. A jibe about Thomas not being a perfect person; a sneer laughing at how none of them had even known Anxiety existed before he’d appeared; a scoff that came with the bold assertion that just pretending _you weren’t like that_ didn’t mean you _actually weren’t_. He seemed to reference someone else sometimes, with a vicious sort of victory that was at least in part tainted with misery, someone who- if Roman was interpreting the clues right- Thomas didn’t even know worked for him, who Anxiety had escaped from. 

And then there was the matter of the tower. 

Roman stared out of the bedroom window. It was his bedroom, his own copy of Thomas’, and if he focused hard enough he could see the shimmering after-images of the original, with Thomas’ homework on the desk, his clothes on the floor, his posters not quite matching up to Roman’s. He wasn’t in his room like Roman was, downstairs at dinner with the family, and not thinking too hard with his creativity. It left Roman free to do what he so often did these days; stare out of the window. 

Spread out below him was the familiar, comforting sight of the backyard, with its play area and the patio and the grass, the treehouse in the far right corner looking shabbier than ever from its lack of use. Thomas’ dad had been talking of taking it down soon now the kids were too old to use it, but both Patton and Roman- and in fact Anxiety in a rare display of unity- had dug their heels in as Thomas instinctively balked at the prospect of losing just another tie to his childhood. Patton had discovered nostalgia recently and Anxiety had discovered how much Roman feared the term ‘growing up’ and the treehouse was just a big old symbol for all of them to cling to. A beacon of bad things; a final point of no return. 

Roman hadn’t been inside in years, in all honesty, but curiously Thomas had, and more than once. Whatever occurred in there Roman wasn’t sure, but he felt a sense of… something faintly off whenever he looked at the treehouse, that hadn’t entirely started _after_ he’d stopped going inside. This time was no different, and he wondered what the slight churn in Thomas’ gut meant, now that Roman had inadvertently bent his thoughts in the direction of the bottom right corner of the garden. Why picking at the faint memories of the interior of that shadowy wooden structure made their creator push his food around the plate and focus extra hard on talking about his classes, shutting Roman out soundly. 

The treehouse was still there, still dark and foreboding and strange. Roman’s eyes started to water slightly, warping the image, until it flickered ever so quickly.

He gasped, shoving his whole body forwards, pressing his nose to the glass as it fogged around him with his quick breaths, trying to see it again. 

It remained stubbornly as it always had been, leaving Roman to wonder if he’d imagined the flash of dark, crumbling tower that had blinked into and out of existence. 

But he hadn’t, because as he lay in bed that night, doodling ideas into his notebook while Thomas tried to fall asleep, the shadows outside his window lengthened and the light that should have fallen on his curtains was slowly, steadily blocked out. The darkness felt cool, and thrilling in the way watching a horror movie when you weren’t supposed to felt thrilling, with that edge of risk to it that got your heartbeat going and made your palms clammy. Roman could feel the moment Anxiety noticed it as well, because Thomas’ brain whirred back awake in an instant, the tossing and turning that disrupted him more and more often these teenage nights starting up yet again. Logan began gamely battling to get Thomas to continue on to sleep, Logic coming up against Anxiety for once, but Roman… 

Roman got out of bed, creeping out of his room and down the hall, sneaking carefully down the stairs one by one so Logan wouldn’t notice and stop fighting with Anxiety. The tiled floor was cool under his bare feet as he crossed it to the back door, sliding it open with a soft whoosh of the well-used mechanism. 

The tower awaited him, taller than the treehouse had ever been and far more foreboding. It was made of dark, black brick, slimy and badly worn, surrounded by thorns and with no discernible entrance. A real Rapunzel tower, straight from the Grimm brothers themselves. 

A fairy-tale come to life. And Thomas hadn’t imagined Roman in the image of a dashing Disney prince for nothing; so he started forwards, heedless of his lack of shoes or weapons or anything. He had his curiosity and that was a thousand times more powerful in that moment than anything else. He _wanted_ to know, and whatever thing (maybe a monster? Roman had only vague theories but he was leaning towards trapped monster) was imprisoned within; it felt close to escape. 

Were he Logan in that moment, Roman would theorise that the tower held some kind of dark aspect of Thomas that he’d hidden from himself, and that in the darkness before sleep it was hardest to maintain the lie, confronted with the harsh truth of oneself. But Roman wasn’t Logan, and he didn’t think too deeply beyond thing bad- must know more. 

He got through the thorns with relative ease, considering how large and deadly they looked from across the garden. All it took was a stick from the pile they kept for a bug hotel, a brief flash of inspiration turning it to a shining sharp sword that sliced neatly through each thick tendril until they started to wither away from him as he approached and revealed a door with no lock nor handle, carved into the base of the tower. 

Curiosity won again as Roman kicked it in, crumbling the ancient wood. He gasped, coughing as a thick gust of stale air wheezed out. It left Roman’s stomach twisting with nausea, but the need to be the prince and climb the tower was too strong to be deterred. Inside the house Anxiety upped the ante and Logan turned too late towards his own window, missing seeing Creativity take a step forwards and disappear into the treehouse. 

It was dark inside, that was the first thing Roman noticed. It was obviously going to be dark, a tower with no windows, but the darkness felt more than that. It felt like it hid an endless number of bad things waiting to come forwards, to pounce at any moment. The walls were horribly slimy when Roman used them to find the winding staircase, and the smell… Better not to mention it at all. 

Suddenly, the sound of whispered movement from above. 

“Hello?” Roman called softly, hoping he’d imagined it. Nothing replied, but the darkness felt closer, and he hurried upwards with the sword ready. “Anyone there?”

A pair of yellow eyes watched, waiting, from below, but Roman never looked down, intent on reaching his goal. He didn’t see the way the door was repairing itself, or how the thorns had regrown. His only thoughts were for the top of the tower and what lay in wait. 

There was the tiniest crack of light when he got up at long last, feet sore and eyes dry from straining to see something. It was a sliver from under a door, faint silver light, the only hint there was a door there at all until he felt it under his fingertips. 

It didn’t budge when he touched it, and once again there was no sign of a handle. Roman kicked it with a frustrated sigh, only to freeze totally still when the whisper of movement came again, -only this time, closer and clearer- it sounded a little like rusted metal, sliding against itself. 

The eyes down below, having followed the prince’s progress, narrowed in thought, but before they could make a decision Logic gained the upper hand over Anxiety back in the house and for a brief, shining moment, the tower was lit up bright and the door clicked open. 

Roman threw himself in before it could close again, and just in time too, because the light faded not a moment later, the door sealing itself up again. How he was going to get out, he wasn’t sure. But that was a problem for later- the fairy-tale dictated he had reached his goal. This was the end of the story. 

So what was his prize? 

There was a shape, in the room. A figure, about his own size, sat facing the window. Roman blinked hard to clear the spots that danced over his vision in the wake of the sudden flash of light, and the figure came slowly into view in the murk. A boy, with poufy sleeves and an outfit to match the setting, staring out of the window back towards the house. Back towards Thomas, back towards where Roman had been staring out from. The boy yawned, stretching his arms up and it was then that Roman noticed the chains. 

He was _chained to the floor_. Was this the monster at the top of the tower? Or the… dude in distress?!

This wasn't _actually_ a fairy-tale, so the former seemed exponentially more likely, and Roman gulped as fear took root. 

“I know, I know, come to shut me up again. I just wanted a bit of fun, D-“ 

The boy stopped, frozen as still as Roman’s heart as it skipped a beat. Two identical faces, two sets of identical eyes, stared in horror and dawning, dim comprehension at each other. 

“You’re Roman!” The other boy shrieked, loud enough to make Roman flinch back. It stopped the grin on the chained boy’s face in its tracks, and he tilted his head, eyes turning cold and calculating in a heartbeat. 

“Who are you?” Roman squeaked, barely able to get his voice to work. “Why are you locked up? Are you evil? Does Thomas have…” his voice fell to a whisper. “A Dark side?”

The boy cackled, a joyful sound that shouldn’t have been as unsettling as it was. The clanking of the chains as he doubled over only heightened the feeling that something was wrong, and Roman screamed when the boy darted forwards suddenly. 

He was yanked back by the chains, snapping his jaw in Roman’s face with a wild snarl and snorting with amusement when Roman’s back hit the far wall, sword out and shaking in his unsteady grip. “A dark side? Everyone’s got a dark side, Prince Perfect. If you think you don’t, you’re just not looking hard enough." 

"Thomas is good!" 

"Thomas is real,” the boy purred, moving back to sit at the window again, gazing back towards the house. The distant sensation of Logic and Anxiety fighting for the upper hand grew when Patton joined, his constant underlying guilt swelling support for their anxious antagonist. The chained boy laughed, fingers tapping against his face too quick for Roman to even see, lips moving soundlessly on words Roman definitely didn’t want to hear. “Have you come to defeat me, Roman? No, you didn’t even know I was here, did you. Locked in my tower, kept from my one true calling. It’s for my own good, you know? D- the dragon that guards me says so. It’s for everyone’s good that I don’t get out, most of all Thomas’.” The name felt reverent the way the boy said it, softly and sweetly, like calling the name of a deity. It made Roman wince. “It’s only right that a villain should be kept away.”

“Who are you?" 

"I’m you, but stronger,” the boy retorted, breaking into cackles. “I’m you but scarier. That’s what they thought, anyway. I think I’m just something else. I think I’m bad news. I think _Thomas_ is bad news…" 

Roman wouldn’t stand for that. He held his sword out more confidently, raising his chin. "Thomas is a great guy! He’s the best! He’s full of good things and light and-”

“And darkness and wondering, wandering thoughts and impulses, just like anyone. Even you. You would kill me if you thought you should, if you thought it was your Disney story, wouldn’t you. Without hesitation, but Roman! Killing is wrong!”

“Not in Disney!" 

”Even in Disney!“

A howl of rage echoed around the tower, along with the sound of metal on stone as Roman brought the sword down on the window ledge beside the boy’s hands. The chained boy didn’t flinch, just beaming victoriously at Roman, cackling his disquieting cackle. 

"Who are you really?! Tell me!" 

The boy opened his mouth to speak, a hunger in his eyes that Roman didn’t understand, but the tower _shuddered_. His eyes darted to the door and Roman’s couldn’t help but follow. "Oh dear, Roman. You shouldn’t have come here. Curiosity killed the cat, you know, and the witch is on his way to toss you out of the tower…”

“I thought you said it was a dragon?”

“Dragon, witch, there was a time when there wasn’t any difference to you. Maybe you’re learning some nuance now though. That’s gotta be rough, buddy, you’re practically made from simplicity.”

Roman narrowed his eyes at the insult, and the tower shuddered again. The boy picked up his cackling again, louder and louder as the shuddering turned to heavy footsteps approaching up the stairs. And Roman wondered, if this was the monster that guarded this boy, what did that make the boy?

“He’s here.”

The door burst open, a hazy shape flying in and grabbing Roman, what felt like giant claws snatching him up and carrying him out of the tower, dropping him hard onto the lawn before it whirled back around and vanished back into the… treehouse? 

The tower was gone. The treehouse looked like it always had, dark and grim, but it was definitely just the same treehouse as ever. 

He fell back, sprawling on the grass as his limbs turned to jelly from the residual adrenaline, while inside Anxiety let up at last and Logan won the battle for the night. Thomas slipped uneasily into dreams.

The tug of unconsciousness grew heavy, dragging on Roman’s very being now his creator had finally fallen asleep. He just about managed to drag himself inside to bed before succumbing at last, glad to leave the whole strange night behind him. 


End file.
